Accidents Happen
by traciaknows
Summary: "He bet she'd make one hell of a poker player if she set her mind to it. Damned if he didn't want to find out."
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Accidents Happen

**Written by:** Traciaknows

**Rating for Chapter: T**

**Main Characters:** Jax Teller/Tara Knowles

**A/N:** This chapter has not been betaed. Any and all mistakes are mine. Comments are greatly appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

His whole day had been bullshit. Serious bullshit. Hitting the glass door of Charming High like a shot he was more determined than ever that his days at the school would quickly be coming to an end.

Jax Teller absolutely hated school. He hated every goddamned moment of it. He hated the itchy cabin-fever feeling he got whenever he was inside too long. He hated being told not only what to learn, but what to _think_ about what he was learning about. Most importantly, he hated being told what to do with his time. If there was one thing that he had learned in his sixteen years was that life was too short, and that a man should make every moment count. It was just hard to seize the moment when eight hours of the day was set in stone. _Or nine_, he thought bitterly, if he counted the detention he was currently headed out of.

Detention wasn't something new to him, trouble had never been hard pressed to find him. This time though, it grated since he had been doing the right thing. Some of the asshole preps had been pushing around Lowell, the scrawny freshman who sure as hell couldn't defend himself against four other dudes. Lowell wasn't a bad kid and he had known that the kid had been having a hard time since his old man had suddenly split. Jax hadn't thought twice about stepping into the tussle, but since he had been seen throwing the first punch, he had been the one landed after school.

Thunder rumbled as he bounced down the cement stairs that lead down to the nearly empty parking lot where he had parked his motorcycle that morning. It was late March and the sun couldn't make it through the clouds that had rolled in during the day. He breathed in the scent of pre-rain ozone and freshly mowed grass. Reaching the bottom, he gave a glance to the players in the ball field attached a short distance from the left side of the lot. There had been a time when he would have been on that field, but those days were over, and with a shrug he found himself strolling towards Opie Winston, his best friend since practically birth.

Loyal to the core, Opie sat on his own bike. Opie's gave Jax a good-natured smile before handing Jax his leather cut that they weren't allowed to wear in school. Shrugging it on, Jax unhooked his helmet from his bike and started to put it on too, when Opie stopped him.

"You catch a look at that?" Opie asked, gesturing with a nod.

Jax turned and followed Opie's gaze toward the middle of the parking lot and immediately thought that his day might not of been totally wasted after all.

The Cutlass was a late 60s model in an inky black, and sexy as hell. Its glossy black paint gleamed even in the weak sunshine. The car was definitely something. He was a motorcycle guy himself, but growing up in the blue-collar world of his family's mechanic shop, gave him a healthy respect for all vehicles that could move fast. He didn't doubt for a second that given the right driver, the pretty cage would move.

"Damn son," Opie said with no little reverence, "that is a thing of beauty.

And it was, no doubt, but it was the girl who was the obvious owner, that held his attention. The flannel shirt covering up the baby doll dress hid her figure, but as she bent to grab something from the trunk, he spotted a glimpse of her long legs covered in tights stuffed into Doc Martins. Whoever she was, he appreciated her look and the fact that it looked like she knew something about cars. He watched as she came around to the front with a cloth and raised hood, and started to check the oil. She moved surely before pulling upright and heading back to the trunk.

"She as hot as the car?"

"Haven't gone over to look."

"Pussy," Jax replied with a smirk before asking, "Who is she?"

"New girl. Just moved here from San Diego."

"Not everyday you see a classic Cutlass."

Opie shook his head, "Not every day to see someone so hot here at CH."

Without taking his eyes off the girl, Jax grinned, he piss poor mood from earlier lightening some, "You call dibs?"

"Nah." Opie never called dibs anymore. Jax figured it had something to do with him being sweet on the little cutie that was Donna Sanders. He'd probably have a shot with her too, if Opie would ever actually talk to her.

Jax had no problems talking with girls. It had always come easy for him, women were always around the shop fussing over him, and the fact that he still carried the hard body of a ball player and had what his mother called "a poet's face" certainly hadn't hurt either.

"Excellent," he said as they watched the girl get into the driver's side and pull out of the lot. Yeah, the day was definitely getting better.

He swung a leg over his bike, pulling it up, and starting it. The bike rumbled to life, he glanced at Opie who only shrugged before starting his own bike. Together, the roared out of the parking lot and down the school's long drive to the highway.

There was nothing in his life that compared to the freedom he felt when he rode. In the tense year, following his dad's death, the riding had been the only thing that had made him really smile. He had been given the Harley for his birthday by Clay, his stepfather of less than six months. He knew that with the bike came the expectation that someday soon, he would begin to take the necessary steps to become a member of the Sons of Anarchy.

Like the wind that whipped into Jax's face as he raced away from the school, the Sons were a force of nature. Originally founded by his dad and Opie's, the Sons of Anarchy walked to a different code of honor. Respect mattered, so did loyalty. A man did what needed to be done and certainly brotherhood was placed above all else, including the law. They were outlaws and proud of it, but it had been Jax's old man that had told him often that any idiot could pick up a gun and use it, but it took a real man to use that gun and deal with the repercussions of his actions. All Jax had ever wanted from life was to join the Sons and make his father proud, that and to keep on riding.

Thunder rolled over the mountains again, and he upped his speed knowing that Opie would be close behind. Within a few short miles, they were stitching a line past the few cars on the two-lane highway in tandem, now pushing the speed limit, the trees lining both sides of them, blurring as they flashed by.

In hardly any time, they caught up with the girl who kept the inky Cutlass a good five below the limit. Apparently, the girl liked to play it safe. Forced to slow down, he followed her for close to a mile before the road opened up with an additional passing lane. Knowing that Opie would take his lead, he gunned it and went to pass her, turning his head ever so slightly, to catch a better look at her as he did.

She had taken off her shades, and couldn't help but notice her dark eyes and serious expression. With a smirk, he gave the engine a little more speed, hoping to have just a few more seconds to make an of impression on her.

He caught the flash of brown in the corner of his eye and reacted by instinct.

As the terrified deer darted out of the woods and straight in front of him, Jax could only swerve back in front of the Cutlass to avoid hitting it. The girl slammed on the brakes, cutting the wheels fast. Reacting quickly, he pitched his body weight to one side, desperately trying to put the bike down to minimize the damage. Hitting the asphalt hard, he felt his wrist crunch and the road cut into his leg, burning and tearing, his jeans offering little protection. The impact knocked the wind out of him and when he stopped skidding, Jax felt his vision waiver, the gray sky above him threatening to turn black.

He heard the squeal of the Cutlass coming to a stop and the unmistakable sound of metal crunching. He turned his head to see that the Cutlass had hit part of a tree and was now in pretty bad shape. He turned back, looking back up at the sky, trying to blink away the blackness, when he heard the fast thud of Opie's boots as he came running towards him. Unable to push his bike completely off himself, Jax lay back, trying to squeeze air into his too tight lungs. He hoped to God that deer met up with the wrong side of some hunter's gun.

"God damn it Jax! You ok?" Opie's panicked face hovered over his as he accessed the damage, "You scared the shit out of me."

"Yeah," he managed to wheeze out as Opie stood up to help yank the bike off of him and propped it up. Sitting up Jax took it all in, and again hoped for the deer to meet a violent end. "Son of a bitch."

"Anything broken?" Jax looked down at his wrist and gave Opie a gritted teeth nod. He had little doubt that it was broken since it hurt like a bitch. Opie reached a hand down, and Jax took hold of his forearm with his left hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Pain sliced through him. His jeans were torn and bloody and there was little doubt that he'd probably need some stitches in several places.

He held onto Opie for a moment to steady himself and then reached up unsnap his helmet, tossing it towards his broken bike. Looking over at the Cutlass again, he took in the steam wafting from underneath the busted hood. "Any idea about the girl?" he motioned.

"Haven't gotten a chance to find out yet. You being alive was my main priority dude."

"Well, let's go check."

. . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Accidents Happen

**Chapter: **2

**Written by:** Traciaknows

**Rating for Chapter: T**

**Main Characters:** Jax Teller/Tara Knowles

**A/N:** This chapter has not been betaed. Any and all mistakes are mine. **Comments are greatly appreciated. **

I was blown away by the wonderful response of reviews and favorites to the first chapter. Thank you so much! You just have no idea how much it means to me. I hope you enjoy this update as well.

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

Jesus Christ, did she hate that deer.

Unable to let go of the steering wheel, Tara looked around her and tried to comprehend what just had happened. It had been impossible not to notice the motorcycles coming up behind her, or not to slow down even further as the guy in the leather vest went to pass her, but she hadn't expected the deer, or for the biker to cut back in front of her.

She had seen him go down and tried her best not to hit him, yanking the wheel so she hit the tree instead. She had managed to hit the breaks and stop, but not before hitting a tree. Overall, it had only lasted mere seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. She felt disorientated and hoped it wasn't as bad as it looked, especially since from what she could see, it looked pretty damn bad. Glass from the windshield covered her lap and her chest burned from where the unforgiving seat belt.

Her heart started to race as she looked out through the cracked windshield and to the crushed hood beyond. Her dad was going to kill her. She had no idea how she would pay to fix the Cutlass. She wasn't supposed to be driving it to begin with, but she had been late for school due to her dad coming in drunk and needing to be taken care of again. She had been irritated and taking the car had just seemed like the most reasonable thing to do after she had missed the bus. But now, in the wreckage of her dad's most prized possession, panic began to grip her. The irony that she had been purposely driving at thirty-five to keep the Cutlass safe was not lost on her. Panic clawed harder at her and her fingers unwillingly gripped at the steering wheel even tighter.

"Shit," she murmured as sucked in the cool air coming from the driver's window she had rolled down when she got in the car at school. She cursed again and again, louder and with much more creatively each time, before giving up and closing her eyes.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" a low voice asked her from just outside her window.

"Not since she died," she replied without thinking. She caught an amused chuckle as she opened her eyes and turned to see none other than the blonde biker, being half-held up by his lanky friend just outside her door.

_Holy shit, _she thought, taking in his ripped and bloody clothes and the way he held his wrist_. _She wasn't' sure how he was even partially still standing. Needing a moment to process this newest addition to the calamity, she closed her eyes again, and leaned back against the headrest.

"This looks pretty bad. Are you hurt?" the biker asked with concern. She felt the driver's side door open. She opened her eyes again, and saw them both wince as they moved so they could make eye contact with her better. _Shit, _she thought again, she must look pretty bad too. She knew she should try and get out of the car, but she just couldn't move, her hands still unwilling to budge. She took several deep breaths to try and calm herself before answering.

"I don't know," she said honestly before giving an accessing look at the blonde, "but I should probably be asking you that."

"I'm tough. Tellers come that way. Nothing that a cast, some stitches, and half a bottle of Jack won't fix."

"Some body work too," said the taller one.

"Opie, we're going to need a wrecker and the trailer. Me and…" he trailed off and gave her an expectant look.

"Tara," she managed, and he gave her a half smile, before straightening up again to continue, "Me and Tara have got to go to the hospital- I don't think we need an ambulance though."

"You need me to call someone one for you?" Opie asked her.

She couldn't think. Since her mother's death, her dad's drinking had spiraled out of control. He was angry when he drank and sullen when he didn't. He was going to be so upset about his car, so upset that she wasn't sure exactly what he would do. Her dad tended to be an all or nothing kind of guy, and she never knew quite what to expect. That not knowing was what always made it worse.

She looked again at the one who went by Teller. Beyond the bleeding, she could tell that he was young like her, no more than sixteen or seventeen. His friend was also young, but where the bleeding one was athletic and blonde, he was dark haired and broad. Both were tall, the darker one more so by a good four inches. They had a roughneck look about them, and under different circumstances, she'd probably give them a wide berth. It wasn't that she was a snob, it was more that she was shy and tended to give just about everyone a wide berth. It was easier that way when it came to not explaining about her dad.

When she didn't immediately answer, Teller pulled away from his friend one just enough so he could reach out with his good arm and just barely skim his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. The slight touch was enough to get her complete attention. "Hey, you want Opie here to call home for you, Tara?"

The kindness in the touch and in his expression helped her pull herself together. There was no way that her dad wasn't going to find out. No way to avoid how bad it was going to be, so she might as well face it head on. "Yes, please," she said and swallowed hard, "my dad needs to know. I don't want to go to the hospital. I'm just a little shaky."

He studied her, holding her gaze again. For the briefest of seconds she felt that he could see into her, and that somehow, he knew her. It was electric and impossible. The thought made her feel stupid and was glad when he broke the eye contact with her before she could do something even more stupid like blush. They moved back and she caught the reflections of Opie carefully helping him around the car. He was limping badly and again she thought he was pretty damn lucky to be standing at all. The passenger door came open and she watched Opie reach in with a bandana and brush some of the glass off the seat with it before pulling back and moving so that he could flop down next to her.

"You are so screwed Jax," Opie said to him when he let out a sound that was a cross between a hiss and low moan, and then pulled out a pen from his back pocket. "What's your old man's name and number?" He asked her and wrote the information on the back of his hand as she told him.

_Jax? _She thought, _must be a nickname. _She watched as he caught a hold of Opie's wrist, forcing him to pause. "Tell Clay first and then tell my mom. The last thing we need is for her to freak."

She watched the smirk cross Opie's face, "have you met your mother?"

. . . .


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Accidents Happen

**Chapter: **3

**Written by:** Traciaknows

**Rating for Chapter: T**

**Main Characters:** Jax Teller/Tara Knowles

**A/N:** This chapter has not been betaed. Any and all mistakes are mine. **Comments are greatly appreciated. **

Thank you so much for your wonderful response! There have been so many views and wonderful encouragement. It means a lot to me and I'm grateful!

**I'm not really sure what was happening with chapter three- but many of you said you couldn't see it. I'm going to repost it in the hopes that the problem corrects itself. Thanks again!**

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

As Opie pulled his bike on to the road and roared off, Jax took stock of the situation that he found himself in. Every bit of him hurt. Cradling his arm close to his chest seemed to help and he did his best not to move it. Swollen and already bruising badly, he hoped he was in for just a cast, and tried not to think about the fact that he'd probably out riding for at least six weeks, if not more, depending on how bad his bike was and on his mother's reaction. The pain was bad enough to make him feel sick, so he was glad lean back into the passenger seat next to Tara.

Since they were fairly close to town, he figured they wouldn't be alone for long. To distract himself from how bad he felt, he turned and studied her.

Almost every inch of her was covered with fabric. The billowy little dress and ridiculously large flannel shirt she wore over it, kept her curves hidden. Her creamy skin and dark hair made for a pretty combination, but it had been her eyes that had drawn him in the most. She had really great eyes.

He wondered if she was in shock, and imaged that she was. He appreciated how hard she was working to keep her shit together, but he was starting to get nervous for her knuckles, which were starting to turn white from her death grip on the steering wheel. Carefully, he reached out with his good hand and turned the key to turn off the engine. When the silence stretched out a few moments too long for him, he said the first thing that came to his mind, "So, I'm thinking about taking up hunting. That deer's got to do down."

Tara turned to him, and for the first time, her expression wasn't as dazed when she looked at him. She seemed to see everything, and her eyes would swing from being expressive to giving very little away. He bet she'd make one hell of a poker player if she set her mind to it. Damned if he didn't want to find out.

"You'd look terrible in hunter orange."

His grin came quick and fast, "You think?"

"Definitely," she said with a nod.

"You cuss like a trucker."

She had the grace to blush but raised her chin and looked him in the eye, and that alone made him like her more. "I didn't realize the window was down. But I'm sure you heard worse before breakfast."

He gave out a small laugh that ended with a short groan.

Concern filled her voice, "Seriously, how badly are _you_ hurt?"

"I've got a few bumps, and my wrist's not feeling too hot," he downplayed, she wasn't the only one with pride, "What about you?"

"I hit my head on the door frame, but I think that I'm okay."

"You probably need that checked out."

She turned enough to look at him and he caught the sadness flicker across her face before she replied, "I'm not a huge fan of spending time in emergency rooms."

Because he had spent a huge amount of time at the St. Thomas hospital when his brother was dying and then later, his old man, he understood her disdain. "I get that, but the last thing you need is an untreated concussion. Not to mention the fact that you may need some stitches yourself."

She looked at him with some disbelief, as if it hadn't occurred to her that she might be bleeding too. He gestured towards the side of her face to where the blood trickled from her hairline. He gave her points for continuing to look at him while he studied the cut instead of looking at herself in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, I'd say you're in for a small scar."

"Well, that will be something to look forward to."

"Consider it a souvenir. It's cooler than a t-shirt."

"I crashed my dad's car and all I got was this lousy t-shirt," she quipped.

"I don't think that will catch on. Stick with the scar."

"For the record, I prefer snow globes when I want a souvenir."

"I'll keep that in mind."

They fell into another silence. It was more comfortable this time. He gauged that they had about five more minutes before someone from Teller-Morrow showed up. He hoped to God that his mother didn't come, as she was liable to be in a fury. Gemma Teller-Morrow could and would burn the world down for her family, and there would be hell to pay to anyone who made her worry- especially if it was Jax himself.

He gave a look to his wrist and saw that the swelling was getting worse. There was no way that it wasn't broken. Looking out over the broken hood of the Cutlass as well, he tried not to think of the shit storm that was about to happen.

He figured that Tara was considering her own shit storm, since she was looking out again at the broken car and her hands still hadn't left the steering wheel. Gently, he reached out and placed one hand over her wrist closest to him and tugged lightly. When she didn't automatically let go, he moved his hand up, letting his fingers cover hers.

"Hey babe?" He asked softly, getting her attention, "I think you can let go now."

"I keep trying," she said in an embarrassed tone, "They won't seem to budge."

"It was pretty scary for you, but you're safe now. We'll get this taken care of."

"My dad isn't going to handle this well. The Cutlass is his pride and joy." Her tone held an edge of panic that he could see she was trying to contain. Her face began to tighten and he could see that her fear went beyond what merited normal teen screw up. Tara was afraid of her dad.

He started to rub his hand over hers, hoping to calm her. "It was an accident Tara. You didn't cause this. Me and the damn deer did."

"I wasn't supposed to have the car. That's all he'll see."

A fierce feeling of protectiveness rose in him, "Then I'll help him see it differently. Plus, my family owns a repair and body shop. It's going to be okay."

When Tara looked away from him, he squeezed her hand and got her attention again.

"It's going to be okay," He repeated, "I promise. Now let go."

She studied him for a long moment, and he watched her eyes warm and her face relax. In that instant he realized that she trusted him and some how that really mattered. She nodded and he felt her hand flex under his before she let go of the wheel. Jax smiled at her, his hand holding on to hers as they waited.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Accidents Happen

**Chapter: **4

**Written by:** Traciaknows

**Rating for Chapter: T**

**Main Characters:** Jax Teller/Tara Knowles

**A/N:** This chapter has not been betaed. Any and all mistakes are mine.

_I'm so grateful to all of your thoughtful comments, private messages, and encouragement. _**Your comments are so greatly appreciated. Thank you for sticking with me- **_**writer's block is a real bitch.**_I'm so hopeful that you'll like this update as well.

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

Tara had never really been this up close and personal to a boy, let alone held hands with one before. Not really. She desperately hoped that her lack of experience didn't show. The baby fat that she had only recently grown out of and her dad's wanderlust since her mom's death, hadn't helped her really experience any romantic or even much friendly interaction with males her age. Harlequin romance novels, John Hughes movies, and her mother's battered copy of _Our Bodies, Ourselves _served largely as her knowledge base, and somehow, none of that helped her now.

She was simply staggered by him. He was without a doubt gorgeous. His tousled blonde hair was getting a little shaggy, framing a face that was defined by a strong jaw and eyes she was a little afraid that she could get lost in. When he looked at her, she felt the same pull she had felt with him earlier, and still was unable to understand how it was possible for it to feel like he knew her.

He hadn't let go of her hand, and inexplicably, she didn't want to let go of his. His hand was warm and she liked the fact that it was bigger than hers. It made her feel safe, even though she couldn't understand why. The light stroke of his thumb over her fingers made her stomach flip-flop. She chided herself over becoming so worked up over such a small act. Told herself that even though he was battered and broken, he was just being nice to her, that it didn't mean anything. The whole thing left her unsettled, and though it was the last thing she really wanted to do, she pulled her hand from his.

His face went still as she moved back from him, his eyes not leaving hers, until she looked away, unable to take the intensity of his gaze any longer. She hated the thought that somehow, as ridiculous as it probably was, she might have disappointed him.

Nervously, she tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, and met his eyes again. He gave her another long look before giving her a half smile.

"So, you're new?" he asked.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Trust me, babe. If I had seen you before, I would have your number already."

His bold honestly made her smile, "you think?"

"Definitely," he said, this time giving her a bigger smile as he used their banter from earlier.

His boldness made her bold as well, "What makes you think that I'd give it to you?"

His smile turned cocky and his eyes lit, "Cause I'm that good."

"You don't look good. You got hoodlum written all over you."

He started to laugh, a warm and rich sound that made her forget that they were both bleeding, sitting in her crashed car, surrounded by glass. She wanted to hear him laugh again.

"_Hoodlum_?" He asked incrediously, "Who says hoodlum?"

"Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it."

"So you're telling me that you judge a book by its cover? For all you know I could be a choirboy."

They didn't make choirboys that looked like him, of that she was sure. "I hang out a lot in libraries."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said before a low rumble in the distance caught his attention. He hissed out a breath as he shifted to get a better look at who was coming. She looked down at his arm. It was getting visibly worse, but he hadn't really complained. The rumbles grew louder and she tried to swallow back the anxiety that she was starting to feel about what would be happening next. She had never been in an accident before, and she supposed she would have to make at the very least a police report.

"It looks like your friend sent the cavalry," she said, gesturing with a nod towards the men coming up fast on gleaming black motorcycles.

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it." Jax shook his head and gave them a warm look before looking back at her and giving her a tired smirk. He had to be in so much pain, she thought. Blood seeped though in spots on his jeans, and his wrist looked even more swollen before. She wished she could take the pain away from him.

The noise from the bikes grew louder and she looked out to see the four men pulling up and stopping. She saw that a tow truck was on its way as well. Opie hadn't returned with them she noticed as she watched as they swung legs over their bikes and dismounted. A steel-eyed man with a crew cut unclipped his helmet and tossed it on his bike before moving quickly towards them. His face was angular, his eyes covered by mirrored sunglasses, his mouth hard and set. The man wore a black t-shirt and black leather vest stretched over hard muscle.

The other men also took off helmets and moved to keep up with the first man, flanking him on each side. They too wore vests, one leather the other denim. The one in leather had long dark curly hair pulled back, he was bushy bearded and extremely broad. The other was older, and certainly taller, she watched as he threw away the butt of a cigar as they approached the wreck that was the Cutlass.

The steel-eyed man had pulled off his sunglasses as he strode over quickly to the passenger side and opened the door. His eyes looked concerned as he leaned in and looked at Jax, taking in the blood and broken arm. Tara imagined that he was used to giving orders, and that was probably why he had a patch that read "President" on his vest. There were other patches as well that labeled him as part of the Sons of Anarchy, Redwood Originals.

Tara had lived in Charming for only a few weeks, but she would have been blind not to notice that the town had a large number of people associated with the group called often by the their initials- SAMCRO. The bikers often race up the main street with their grim reaper patches on the backs of their vests. She had overheard whispers by some women wearing too tight shirts and sporting black crow tattoos while she was in the grocery store the previous week about how SAMCRO was more in charge of Charming than the actual city leaders.

"You okay son?" The man asked in a tone that came out in a low grumble, his face softening only slightly as he spoke.

Jax visibly stiffened but gave him a nod, and meeting the older man's gaze dead on, "yeah," he said, "damn deer ran out in front of us. I had to cut in front of Tara and then ditch the bike."

"You look like shit," the man said bluntly.

"Feel like it," Jax replied back in a tone that matched the man's, and then in different tone all together, "My mom know?"

"She was running an errand for the shop, I say you got roughly five more minutes before she finds out from Opie."

"Jesus Christ," Jax swore and then closed his eyes briefly as if in prayer.

The man nodded once and gave Jax a pitying look before he turned his face up to look beyond Jax to her, "What about you, little girl?"

He made her nervous, but she held herself together, answering calmly, "I think I'm okay, just a banged up some, but Jax needs to go to the hospital."

Jax opened his eyes and turned his attention to her and she caught something move across his face. She realized that it was the first time she had said his name. She hoped she had gotten it right. "Tara needs to go too, Clay," he said without hesitation, "She got her head knocked pretty good."

Clay nodded, "We'll get you both to St. Thomas. The cops should beat your mom here. We gotta make a report for the insurance."

"It was my fault Clay," Jax said seriously, "I'm responsible."

Something crossed between them, and Clay nodded again before pulling back and standing up to bark orders at the other men.

"Thank you," Tara whispered, reaching out to touch his good arm.

"Well, it's the truth," he gave her a half smile that she found herself returning, "You wanna get out here?"

"I think so," she said, pulling back, and getting out of the car. Her head throbbed as she started to make her way around the car meeting Jax as he climbed out as well with a grimace.

"You probably need an ambulance."

"Nah, I've had worse on the dirt bike before."

Without thinking, she moved to his side and wrapped her arm around his waist to help him move away from the car. Jax pulled his good arm around her accepting her help. She tried to focus on getting him towards the other bikers and less on the fact that he smelled so good it made her mouth water.

Slowly, they made their way to the tow truck, listening to the razzing Jax was getting from the other men. He took it good naturedly, and she imagined since their teasing was good natured rather than nasty, it was the norm for them. Jax introduced them to her as Piney and Bobby.

"Yeah, yeah," Jax said to them as leaned a little more heavily on Tara. She had no idea how he was even on his feet.

"Less than six months on that bike, and now look at you. That's pathetic kid," growled Piney with a shake of his head before he went to go take a closer look at the Cutlass.

"No, what will be pathetic will be what's left of him after Gemma's done with him," Bobby said with a grin. Tara caught a grimace from Jax again that she wasn't entirely sure was from his injuries. She was about to ask him if he needed to sit down again, when the sounds of car and another bike approaching fast caught her attention. She recognized Opie right away, but it was the sports car, silver and lethal looking that had her eyes widening as it ate up the road and when it was close enough came to a screaming to a stop. Gravel was still flying as a woman with dark hair and a darker expression through open the door and started racing towards them on impressively high-heeled boots, her eyes focused solely on Jax.

"Are you out of your god damned mind, Jackson? What the _hell_ were you thinking?" the woman yelled as she approached. The men gave her a wide berth, and Tara suddenly wished that Jax wasn't holding on to her quite so tight. The woman's face was fierce, but as she came closer, Tara could see the worry that was just under the surface. The woman reached out and took Jax's face in her hands, her expression relaxing to something almost gentle, "You look like shit."

Jax grinned, "So I hear."

"Don't do this again."

"Yes, ma'am."

She let go of his face and stepped back to take in the entire scene before focusing on Tara who suddenly felt like she was not only judged but being found lacking as she was looked up and down.

"Who's this?" She asked, gesturing to Tara.

"This is Tara. Tara, meet my mother, Gemma Teller."


End file.
